and each car thatslide past stoppedto stare at the mausoleumwe had made ofeach other, gawk likehungry touristsas the spectacle ofthe separation thatwas taking over us,as we slowly grewapart as the earth movesaway from itself, a progressionof flight, though we hadbecome rooted, and thebreakage was fierce -

you slapping at the emptyspace with your fiststo find me, and I stretchedeach fingertip at lengthto get back,

though eventuallyI rotted away like dust, whirlingaway like too much past, fallingaway into crumbled nothingsof everyone else's expressionalismsof who we had been to each other.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.